


Stuck Together

by aliceslantern



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: (incredibly mild though), Anal Sex, Biting, Desperate times call for desperate measures, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Play, Quarantine, Recreational Drug Use, Sorry Not Sorry, coworkers with benefits, listen we all have to get through covid somehow, literally just porn, so so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliceslantern/pseuds/aliceslantern
Summary: Neither Demyx nor Zexion want to be assigned to a mission together, made doubly more tense when an unexpected sickness spreads across their current world, a quirk of which leaves them unable to create dark corridors. Trapped in only two rooms, they have a choice--steadily go insane, or seek solace in one another. Nobodies cannot feel... but their bodies are human, after all.
Relationships: Demyx/Zexion (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

It was supposed to have been easy.

Neither Zexion nor Demyx were pleased to be assigned to a mission with one another. But every now and again it was inevitable. With Vexen pulled away with his  _ mysterious _ and  _ crucial _ projects, they were the only two people who were actually competent at reconnaissance--not that Zexion would ever admit it. As far as he was concerned, Demyx was junior to him on this mission. It was  _ not _ a nice feeling.

Well. A few days and this would all be over with, and Zexion would saunter off to Castle Oblivion, and Demyx wouldn’t have to see his smug face for however long that mission took.

But this world was too large--and too important--for one person to stake out, owing to its position in the solar system. They’d just have to  _ deal _ .

“I will  _ not _ be writing your reports,” Zexion said coolly, setting down the bag he was carrying. “And I will have you know that they  _ will _ be written adequately, and according to the style guide.”

Demyx snorted and sat down on the bed. They’d rented a small cabin, and it only had two rooms--a bedroom with two double beds, and a sitting room with a kitchenette. It  _ seemed _ clean-- Demyx could smell the fresh laundry and lemon cleaner--but everything was a bit old, derelict, or threadbare. “What, or you’ll tattle on me?”

He began pulling out books and placing them on the small writing desk. It was a mark of territory as much as anything. “If that’s what it takes,” Zexion said. He examined a spine of one of the books, as though checking for wear. “Sora has been rather decimating our number of Dusks. No doubt we could use one more.”

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Roxas might believe that’s possible, but I sure as hell don’t. No. You guys  _ need _ me to fill out the ranks.”

“With the spread of darkness, no doubt we can simply  _ find _ a replacement.” He looked up. His eyes were, as always, cold. 

Demyx scowled. “I’m not happy about this either, you know.”

Zexion ignored this. “If you don’t mind unpacking your things. I’d very much like our space to be orderly.”

“Or what?”

Demyx barely had gotten the words out of his mouth before Zexion pitched a book at him with perfect accuracy, without even turning around. It hit him right in the throat.  _ Stupid telekinetic powers, _ he thought. “Alright, alright. Keep your hair on,” he spat, once he could breathe again. He opened the drawstring of the bag and began emptying out the cover clothing, the cartography paper, the food and provisions. 

It was going to be a long few days.

* * *

And it  _ did _ seem to be going as well as it could, at least for a while. During the days they didn’t have to see one another, gathering data. Doing what needs to be done. Demyx didn’t see what was special about this world. He tried to write his reports according to Zexion’s unattainable standards. (“What, did you grow up in a barn?” he asked, with a scowl. “Your syntax is an absolute nightmare.”) He wasn’t sure why; how much power did the other man have over him? Then again, Zexion could give him some  _ very _ shitty nightmares.

But in the meantime… he started hearing… whispers. Not just from the Dancers, who he’d asked to gather what they could, but from the other people on this world. Rumors of a scourge, from somewhere in the south, one spreading towards this city.

Zexion begrudgingly admitted he was hearing the same. “A good plague happens every now and again,” he said, with a shake of his head. “Should it get much closer I’ll make the call. It would do no good for us to get sick.”

They tried to do their best to protect themselves, to keep their distance. But the governments of this world were doing almost nothing to contain the spread-- “How very interesting,” Zexion remarked gently, “it means it will fall all the easier.”

For a second, a whisper, Demyx wondered if this many people dying with their hearts still in tact was a good thing. If they should do something while they could. But then the whisper was gone. “If Xemnas still wants it.”

Zexion shrugged. “It is useful. Especially during a time like this--struggle is rife to sow the seeds of darkness.” 

Demyx could feel the panic rising in the air, as he continued to scour the city… as things began to shut down, the hospitals crowded, food running short. Thankfully their Nobodies could bring them supplies from elsewhere, and Zexion’s illusions assured no soul would get close to this place.

“I’m not liking the way this is going,” Demyx admitted. “Maybe we should just go. Send in the Heartless. The cavalry. Whatever.”

“What, are you frightened?” Zexion asked, barely looking up from his lexicon. 

“I’m not scared. It’s just… the anxiety. You can feel it humming.”

“All the better for our goals,” Zexion added. He shut the book with a flourish. 

He had a point. “As long as this is over with soon.”

The sickness was rampant and incredibly contagious. It was only when they caught wind of the actual symptoms--blood from the orifices, inability to retain water, widespread nervous collapse--did Zexion tut softly. “This is clearly escalating beyond what it is practical to expose ourselves to,” he said. “We should leave, and quarantine back at the castle.”

“I’ve been saying that for days,” Demyx spat. 

He just shrugged. “I was curious to see what the authorities had to say,” he added. “If anything… the Nobodies can watch, and wait.” The lessers seemed unaffected by all this, somehow; then again, their bodies were not made of blood and bone, but quite literally nothing. “Right. How disappointing.” He began to pack his things. “At least we’ll be rid of one another, won’t we?”

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get out of here.”

But when Zexion tried to create a portal, nothing happened. He blinked; for a second Demyx thought he saw something like confusion cross his normally stoic face. He held out his hand; all Demyx could see were small flickers of darkness. “Bizarre,” he whispered. 

“You burn yourself out?” Demyx asked.

“It takes an awful  _ lot _ for me to lose magic,” Zexion said. “Perhaps it is some… magical ward, or something? Search for runes.”

“Oh, please,” Demyx said.

Zexion just shot him a glare. “The sooner this is over with, the sooner we can leave this godforsaken place.”

So Demyx searched, dutifully (and mostly to get away from Zexion), for hours around the cabin complex, in the trees in the nearby forest, in the car park, around and around the property line. He found nothing resembling “runes” other than some crude graffiti scratched into a vending machine. He just shrugged. “Sorry, it’s gotta be you.”

Zexion shook his head. Demyx thought he saw something in those eyes--but it was gone in a flash. “Try it yourself,” he said.

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Alright.” He held out his hand. Called.

And felt nothing.

“I’ve no time for your games,” Zexion said. 

Demyx tried again, his hand flailing in the empty air of their sitting room. “It’s not--nothing’s coming,” he said. “I--I’m trying.”

Zexion’s eyebrows shot up. He reached into his bag, chugged an ether (remarkable, considering how bad they tasted), and held out his own palm. Then, he exhaled heavily.

“What’s going on?” Demyx asked.

He just put a hand to his forehead. “I’ll have to do some reading, to be sure,” he said. If it were possible for words to scowl, his did. “It’s quite possible that the virus, instead of killing us, is instead sapping at our dark powers.”

Demyx shook his head. “That makes no sense.”

“Darkness is a better host than a body,” Zexion said instead. “We are… at the moment… the best of both worlds, for it. Replicate within us… but instead of killing us and wasting all that energy, jump ship via the darkness. Leaving us unharmed… but trapped.” 

Demyx blinked. “Is that possible?”

“Quite--it is very rare. Hence, my need for more information.”

“What about the Nobodies? Couldn’t we get them to make a portal for us?”

Zexion considered this, then shook his head. “Not quite. Their rules are different--instead of going straight through darkness, they also go through  _ nothing _ , which compresses their bodies and what they carry. We have human bodies. In essence… we’d be crushed.”

Demyx felt a flicker of anxiety; then he groaned. “Meaning we’re--”

“Stuck here, yes, until the virus passes.”

“But if it grows within us forever--”

“It may very well be a while.” He wrinkled his nose in displeasure. “Likely Vexen will be able to come up with a solution, once I get word to him. Until then…” His eyes flicked over Demyx like he was a cockroach. “I guess we must just bunker down.”

“...Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zexion and Demyx grate on one another's nerves. With no end to the containment in sight, they come up with a compromise.

The first few days were bearable--relatively speaking. They had plenty of food and water. A place to crash. Demyx had time and Arpeggio. The place was two rooms, so theoretically they did not have to interact much with one another. Zexion holed himself up in the sitting room, having dragged out the desk with his power. He read his many books. He wrote, endlessly, for hours into his lexicon. “Catching up on my archive,” he said, bitterly, when Demyx asked for a tenth time. “The only upside to all this. Now leave me be.”

They had to play telephone, with the Nobodies, to hear from Vexen. The scientist, fascinated but also enraged at “their carelessness”, sent back kits with vials for various bodily fluids, leading to a  _ very _ unpleasant few hours where Zexion had to goad Demyx into giving blood. Demyx watched with a morbid fascination as the other man stuck himself, not even flinching. This dealt with… they had to wait.

He’d wanted unlimited time to rest, to be with Arpeggio--except Zexion kept telling him to lower and lower the volume until he might not even bother. “The walls in this place are thin enough as it is.” Even when he tried to sleep, Zexion had a bad habit of going into and out of their room, his footsteps unusually loud (Demyx suspected he was doing this on purpose) on the thin industrial carpeting. “Look, you have to compromise too,” Demyx spat. “It can’t always be quiet. I can’t make myself any smaller.”

“I feel like my work--for our Organization--is more important than your mere flippish leisure,” he said coolly. “Keep it  _ down _ .”

“Or what?” Demyx asked. “You’ll make me a Dusk?”

For a second, but just one, Zexion’s eyes went dark, and Demyx suddenly got a whiff of the  _ horror _ he could wreak on him if he so wished it. “Leave me be.”

Fine. Two could play. Zexion wanted to be scary with his powers? Great.

It was almost too bad Zexion figured it out the second Demyx cut the water. After all, Demyx did not  _ need _ to drink to stay alive like the other man, and if he wanted to wash up he could just do so at will. He didn’t need to rely on plumbing. “Turn the water back on,” Zexion said tiredly.

“Or what?” Demyx asked. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pinched, fed-up look on Zexion’s face. 

Zexion thought for a moment. “I’ll give you two hours of free practice time.”

“Four.”

“Three and I won’t tell the Superior you tried to kill me with dehydration.”

“...Fine.”

* * *

But along with the squabbles, there was something else getting steadily more uncomfortable. 

They didn’t need to wear their coats, now that they could not summon the darkness. Seeing Zexion in civilian clothing never ceased to be odd to him. He  _ never _ wore it, not even in the castle when everyone else did. One of his shirts, Demyx noticed, was a soft green, with a slit in the front that showed his (surprisingly toned?) chest just below the collarbones. He must’ve liked the shirt, because he wore it often. The more time passed… the more bored Demyx got… he found himself staring at that small patch of pale skin, his mind wandering, wondering what it might feel like to press his mouth against it, his tongue--

God, he was really going insane if he was fantasizing about  _ Zexion _ , of all people.

The door between the rooms did not shut properly even after best efforts to fix it, so neither of them got a full breath of privacy unless he was in the bathroom. Despite surreptitious shower masturbation, Demyx felt that tightness steadily encroaching. If he were living his normal life, now would be the perfect time to slip away to an anonymous nightclub, find someone cute to dance with, get himself invited back to their place so he could finally--

Nobodies did not have  _ feelings. _ But lust was based in the body.

“I don’t know what it is you  _ do _ in there,” Zexion spat, when Demyx finally emerged (only marginally relieved) from one of these showers. “The hot water is always gone. I can’t make it myself, unlike you.”

“Sue me for wanting to enjoy what little I can.”

He rolled his eyes, picking up his clean clothes for his own bathing. Demyx tried not to focus on the sound of the water running, what he might look like under those clothes, if he were also trying to take care of things…

Not good. Besides. Zexion hated people so much he probably wasn’t into sex at all.

Time passed… and Demyx wasn’t so sure.

Vexen  _ was _ making progress on a vaccine, but time on this world flowed more quickly here than there. Instead of the furious writing, or reading, sometimes Demyx would be going to the kitchenette to get something to eat or some coffee, and he’d see Zexion staring at the wall in front of his desk, his knee bobbing. Demyx had never seen the other man restless before--never, not even during Xemnas’s longest, most boring meetings. Sometimes his eyes would be unfocused, or black. He was looking at  _ some _ illusion, Demyx thought. He wondered what. Or who. He always tried to make Zexion extra aware he was about to enter the room, in case he was… doing something. Sometimes Zexion would sigh heavily, rest his face in his hands. For someone who rarely broke composure, it said a lot.

Almost a month into this containment, he felt a hair’s breadth from completely losing his mind.

It didn’t help that they were actually sitting  _ near _ each other, eating an unsatisfying dinner of rice and chicken (the Nobodies, no matter how patiently either of them explained, could not understand what “spices” or “condiments” were). They watched some kind of television show on the cabin’s spitty small screen--the closest they could actually get to doing recon. Plate empty, all Demyx could focus on was how Zexion’s knee was almost touching his, and  _ please move it just a bit more to the left. _ He understood how some people in romance novels would faint seeing an ankle. He really did. To distract himself, he took their plates to the sink, trying to focus instead on the feel of the water, the soap, anything except the thought of Zexion’s mouth on his--

“Demyx?” Zexion prompted. “Once you’re through--might you come here for a moment?”

He looked up. Zexion only asked him to actually engage with him if he needed something. His hands were shaking as he dried them off. “What’s up?” he asked, as neutrally as possible.

His face was so oddly blank. “Sit. It’s alright. I merely want to talk.”

Demyx snorted. “Yeah, okay. Sure.” But he complied anyway.

Zexion scowled. “It’s clear that this quarantine isn’t going to end any time soon,” he said. “Heaven forbid I try to pry some intelligent conversation out of you.”

“I thought I wasn’t smart enough to  _ have _ intelligent conversation.”

“Certainly smarter than my Nobodies.” He crossed his arms; Demyx could see him tapping his fingers against his bicep. “More capable than  _ yes, Lord Zexion, what can I do for you, Lord Zexion. _ ” He sneered.

“Figured you’d like that.”

“I’d enjoy it more if they actually had any say in the matter. They don’t exactly have free will.” It was silent for a beat. Zexion observed him closely, his head slightly cocked. He leaned a bit towards Demyx, close enough that Demyx could  _ smell _ him, could see slightly down the V of that green shirt. It took all of his willpower not to drop his eyes. Instead, he was caught in the curve of Zexion’s lips. How had he never noticed them before? “I have a… proposition, for you,” he said, in a low voice.

“What does that mean?”

“A proposition is--”

Demyx exhaled. “I know what it is. What are you trying to ask?”

For a second--but just one--Demyx thought he saw a blush, but it was gone, a trick of the light. “This isn’t… easy,” Zexion said slowly. “As Nobodies we are not meant to… occupy the same space, for so long. But our bodies are human. We cannot  _ feel _ much, but we can…” He swallowed. He wasn’t exactly a stuttering mess, but Demyx realized he was nervous. “What I mean to say is… it would not do for either of us to be uncomfortable, would it?”

He felt the blood rush to his face. “...No.”

“I thought so.” He seemed to be trying to find more words. “It is clear we’re going to be one another’s only companion for some time. I could turn a blind eye to… certain things, to keep the peace. As it were.”

Demyx took a quick breath. Could he possibly mean--?

“We needn’t mention this ever again,” he continued. “But I believe we’re both becoming… exceedingly… restless.”

Interesting word choice. Demyx noticed that with each sentence he was moving a little closer, until he could feel Zexion’s breath on his face. The movement was so subtle he could barely see it happen. 

“Especially considering our ages. I see no reason to suffer needlessly. Wouldn’t you say?”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. The warmth of Zexion’s skin, the smell of him, the thick heady ache of  _ oh god do something now or else I’ll-- _ “Yes,” he said. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

A slow, sinuous smile. Demyx realized he’d never seen it before. He was unsure of what to read into it. “Good,” Zexion said. “It seems you are capable of reason after all.”

There was so little space between them. Was this really about to happen? He could feel Zexion’s hair (softer than he would have thought?) against his cheek, and he couldn’t help the small gasp. His lips brushed against Demyx’s, cool and soft and yet somehow restrained. He was giving Demyx one last chance to back out without consequences, he realized.

Consequences. It was almost funny.

Something almost seemed to snap. Demyx kissed him back, hard, his skin prickling with the relief of contact. Zexion responded equally as deeply, pulling his hands through Demyx’s hair so tightly it almost hurt, but the pain was weirdly exhilarating. He gripped at the fabric of that green shirt, desperate to know what was under it, running his hand all along the soft slender muscle of Zexion’s back. Demyx felt him slide his tongue into his mouth, curious and weirdly sweet.

Zexion tucked his knees around him, not quite straddling him. Demyx thought he saw the outline of his dick through the fabric of Zexion’s pants, and his priority immediately became getting them off of him as soon as possible.

Too soon, Zexion broke away. “Come on,” he said. He stood and grasped at Demyx’s hand. The subtext was clear--this was happening only according to his rules.

Demyx could deal with that.

Zexion brought him back into the bedroom, over to Demyx’s bed, turned down the covers. He was breathing hard; Demyx had never heard him exert himself. Hell, the man didn’t even like  _ running _ , preferring to levitate instead. He felt himself get even harder. 

Zexion regarded him curiously. He considered Demyx’s body, running a hand along his side, making him gasp. “You’re noisy, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone unreadable.

“I mean I--”

“It will do,” he said, and kissed him. Demyx felt his hands fumbling with the button of his jeans, tugging them off. He reached for Zexion’s own, but the man was already working at his shirt. Feeling his fingers along his bare skin was almost more than he could take. He reached to grasp at Zexion’s dick, only to feel his hand tugged away. Zexion kissed him harder.

“Let me--”

“A moment,” he said. He took off his own shirt. It was almost hard to see him; a combination of the room’s blinds and the oncoming night making everything reddish. “Go ahead. Lay down.” How his tone remained so even, Demyx had no idea. 

He obeyed. It was difficult  _ not _ to listen. His cock was positively throbbing, and it took the rest of his increasingly withered willpower not to touch himself. “What are you--”

“Quiet.” He seemed to be looking for something. Demyx could see his back, pale like moonlight, the curve of his ass. He had no idea what they were about to do and got the notion he had little choice, but he didn’t mind giving up control as long as he got some form of relief. In a weird way, he trusted Zexion. Even if the man hated him, he had a feeling he would not get rid of Demyx if he got something out of it.

He’d just have to be good.

Zexion came back with a bottle of lube, one that had most  _ definitely _ not been part of their initial supplies, meaning he’d had to ask for it. How long had he been waiting to spring this trap? Demyx couldn’t help but look at him, his dick, trying not to appear as desperate as he knew he did. 

Zexion set the bottle down and straddled him, slowly, almost languidly. Feeling his thighs against him made Demyx have to stifle a small sound. Zexion leaned down to kiss him, the kiss surprisingly gentle, trailing down his throat, his jaw. Finally, finally, he felt that soft, strong hand sliding down across his hip to his cock. He stroked him slowly once, twice, the touch almost worse than nothing. 

“What do you want from me?” Demyx asked, too turned on to be embarrassed. 

“I want you inside me,” he said, his voice unnervingly level. The only thing that gave him away at all was the slight rock of his hips, the flush in his cheeks. “I assume you’ve done this all before?”

“Yes--I--”

“Alright.”

Demyx fumbled for the lube that had been set down. He could be in shock later, he decided. He could process all this after they fucked. It felt so  _ good _ to finally give in to all this. His hands shook as he spread the lube across his fingers. Zexion shifted a little, leaning down on his elbows, the warm tip of his dick brushing against Demyx’s. For just a second--no more--Demyx saw the reaction. Despite his cool exterior, Zexion was  _ just _ as much of a pent-up mess as he was. “Quick? Or--”

“No.”

“Okay.” He fumbled along his overheated skin, finding it at last, the delicious warmth and tightness making him gasp despite the fact that it was only his finger. 

Zexion took a sharp breath, his eyes closing. “Another.”

He obeyed. For a moment he was tempted to make a joke, something like “I’d never have pegged you for a bottom,” despite the fact that he was not and there was absolutely no doubt who was in control here. But god he was so  _ warm _ . Demyx moved his hand a little. He thought he heard Zexion make a small noise. “One more?”

“Yes.”

He kissed Zexion’s shoulder, which was the part of him closest to his mouth. Demyx could see him clutching at the sheets. “And now?”

“You can--” He sat up suddenly. Demyx withdrew his hand. Zexion reached for the lube again, took some into his hand, spread it across his dick almost roughly. Demyx couldn’t stifle the noise he made this time. 

“How do you like it?” Demyx asked. 

“I--I’ll show you,” he said evenly. The stutter tightened a small pit in Demyx’s stomach. Suddenly he needed more than anything to make him lose control. Zexion propped himself up a little more so Demyx could angle into him. He had to guide it, with his hand. 

_ I guess we’re really doing this, _ he thought. He eased the tip inside, the friction  _ so _ needed, all tightness and heat. He pushed more, and when Zexion didn’t seem to be in pain or anything, took him a little harder.

The sound he heard was not quite one of pleasure.

“I’m sorry. I’m so--”

“It’s not you,” Zexion said in a strained voice. “It’s just been--”

“...Oh.” He shifted his weight, uncomfortably, letting him get used to it. He knew Zexion would probably rather die than admit he was big, or at least bigger than the last person he’d been with. It seemed odd, to imagine Zexion deliberately seeking out encounters. 

Zexion relaxed a little and opened his eyes. “Right,” he said softly. He rocked his hips once, experimentally, the movement making Demyx shudder. He seemed to consider this. He began moving again, almost delicately, as though trying to figure something out. Demyx had to consciously resist the urge to thrust against him. He exhaled sharply. “Could you--”

Demyx rested his hands on Zexion’s thighs. He bucked up, trying to find his g-spot--he was pretty sure that was what was happening--and shifted, trying to adjust this position somehow. Zexion followed, testing each little movement, each so subtle and yet so  _ intense _ for Demyx. After a moment Demyx heard another one of those almost soundless noises. “That?”

“Yes--just like--”

He thrusted into him a little harder, almost pulling it all the way out. Zexion gripped at his shoulders, moving in earnest now, as if to say  _ no, like this _ , so Demyx listened, trying to find that counterpoint, until one of Zexion’s noises actually had  _ noise _ . The tension inside of him only became tauter and sweeter. They found a sort of rhythm that seemed to work for both of them, steady and yet urgent at the same time. Demyx wanted this to last forever and yet he also really just wanted to  _ come _ already, a fine film of sweat all along his skin. He could see Zexion, in those few moments he was able to open his eyes, lolling his head gently, a sort of openness he had never seen in him before. They were both breathing hard.

It just seemed to keep building and building, making Demyx’s skin more sensitive, and he could feel Zexion’s nails where he gripped at him. Zexion moved a little quicker, and Demyx did too, holding onto his hips for stability. Part of him was in disbelief this was all happening, but the other part of him felt like it had already happened, like this wasn’t the first time they were doing this. Maybe it should’ve felt more awkward.

Zexion was trembling, his head bowed forward. His body clenched a little around Demyx, sending an almost painful wave through him. “Fuck,” he said, without meaning to. He reached with one hand towards Zexion’s dick, still untouched, and heard an actual, honest-to-god moan, one that made the man open his eyes and turn pink almost with embarrassment.

So that was why he hadn’t wanted to be touched.

Well. He didn’t say no or tell him to stop, so Demyx kept at it, seeing something like apprehension flick through the Zexion’s eyes until he just seemed to give in completely to the touch, both trying to buck into his hand and against his dick at the same time, a confusing and heady sensation that only blurred out Demyx’s own control.

They were both powerless, in that moment, which meant neither of them were.

It was almost a sort of game, to see who was willing to come first. Demyx was trying his best not to, to keep holding on. Maybe also stroking him was cheating. But Zexion was supposed to be this master tactician; if he couldn’t figure something else out, it was kind of his fault. Sure enough, a second later he felt Zexion clench around him, this time more deliberately, and Demyx laughed. His blue eyes were fierce, challenging. He was not going to let go if he had a say in the matter.

If they hadn’t both been ludicrously pent up, this game could have gone on longer. He was fairly sure Zexion hadn’t been masturbating this whole time--his showers always too short. Demyx could tell he was beginning to waver, his body overtaking his willpower, leaning against Demyx with more of his weight. “Not  _ fair _ ,” he said hoarsely. Demyx just tightened his grip on him. With one last act of defiance, he tightened those muscles a little more, completely shattering Demyx’s concentration and throwing him into the deep end.

Better to call a draw than to lose.

The orgasm was thick and rich, making Demyx dizzy and unaware of his surroundings. Finishing inside of him didn’t help. The sense of relief was exactly like getting socked in the stomach, and he struggled to catch his breath. Demyx blinked; the world seemed like it had been halved. There was stickiness along his belly and palm. “Ha,” he said instead. “You couldn’t wait.”

Zexion eased off of him delicately and knelt next to him on the bed.

“Lay down,” Demyx said. “Catch your breath.”

He seemed shocked, reeling; he hugged himself. “No, I should--” He cleared his throat. “Finish some things, now that I can concentrate.”

Demyx sat up. He reached for a tissue to begin cleaning himself up. “Oh,” he said. “I mean. If that’s what you want.” Was it the lighting, or was Zexion not quite meeting his eyes?

Zexion stood. He wasn’t even really softening yet. “If you don’t mind. I’d like to shower first.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Alright.” He turned.

“Zexion?”

He didn’t look back, but he did stiffen a little. 

“Was that what you wanted?”

He craned his head just slightly. “It was,” he said in a low voice, “adequate to tend to my needs.”

_ Adequate. _ Making him tremble and gasp for breath was  _ adequate. _ Demyx shook his head. “Sure.”

The door shut behind him, and the room seemed suddenly incredibly silent.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx and Zexion's newfound arrangement makes life more bearable. Demyx wants to know who Zexion really is.

It wasn't the only time it happened. As time passed--the virus ravaging the world around them and Vexen no closer to a cure--it became… more frequent.

They debated long and hard if it were worth trying to quarantine in the castle, if someone were to come get them. But they couldn't risk everyone's health, especially considering they'd only  _ just  _ gotten a Keyblade wielder after so much searching, and not many others could afford to lose their dark power. Vexen sent them medicines and tested their viral loads, only for them to come back positive every time.

As far as they knew… this was indefinite. They couldn't think about this fact if they were wrapped up in their own projects or having sex. Couldn't think about the  _ this might be forever. _

Nobodies could not feel. But it seemed an awful lot like they were using one another for comfort.

"We have to be producing some kind of antibodies," Zexion said, with a shake of his head. "We  _ must. _ " Magic was not curing their viral loads, either; Demyx had been Zexion's guinea pig. To be completely frank… being trapped in these two rooms, unable to do more than take a turn around the parking lot… Demyx feared for their sanity. How long had it been, exactly? Days? Weeks? Months? Hard to tell…

"Two months," Zexion said. "My diaries are accurate, at least. Take a breath. We shouldn't theoretically respond the same as humans."

Demyx tried. As much as he tried to convince himself, it was hard work. "Hey…" He said softly. "Don't you feel… the same? Don't you miss the freedom?"

Zexion's back was still towards him. "I do," he admitted quietly. "We may be able to bear one another… but still… this life…" He inhaled deeply. "This life… is… restricting."

"But we don't feel," Demyx pointed out.

Zexion nodded. "Right. Going without our normal habits makes it feel trying. But I don't suppose it is, is it?"

Demyx crossed over to him, by the kitchenette counter. It still wasn't seamless, to initiate this. He was never sure of how Zexion would react. He'd been rebuffed a few times… and sought a few times. "Do you have a lot to do, tonight?"

"I can move some things around," he said softly. 

Demyx leaned forward to kiss him, running his tongue along Zexion's lower lip. He felt his tongue reach back out, kissing him deeply, his hands curling in Demyx's hair. "So," he said. Demyx kissed his throat, taking in the taste of Zexion's soap. He heard him take a sharp breath, his hand curling against Demyx's shirt. "Seems like you kind of need something to get out of your head."

He scoffed. "And what might you suggest, to remove us from this present misery?"

"Oh, I don't know." He fumbled for the buttons of Zexion's shirt, kissing newly exposed skin. Demyx reached down to rub at him through his pants.

"Of course this is it," Zexion said, rolling his eyes. 

"Do you mind?"

"... It's lucky I'm bored."

His tone was deadpan, but Demyx could feel him hardening. He dropped to a kneel and opened the catch of Zexion's pants. 

"...It seems you're bored too."

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I'm curious to see how you'll do."

Demyx felt him, the vital hardness of him, warm and insistent. He slipped Zexion's dick out of his underwear and pressed his lips against the skin of his stomach, breathing in the change of scent, musky and strange and so compelling. He ran his tongue along the soft spot below his belly button. Zexion made one of those soft soundless noises.

(To think there'd be a day when he'd get to know Zexion's body and the noises he made.)

Demyx ran his hand along Zexion's dick, stroking it gently, maddeningly. 

"As though this would distract me," Zexion said thickly.

"So demanding," Demyx said. He rolled his eyes. He watched Zexion closely, his eyes, his expression. He cared less about the actual act at this point, more about trying to unravel Zexion, the mystery he was. To simplify him. He eased his lips over the tip of it, trying to quantify the taste of it. Not… quite salt, but  _ something. _ It was so surreal to feel him, to taste him. He ran his tongue along the shaft, gratifying in the way Zexion's hands tightened in his hair. Okay. This was getting somewhere.

He took it a bit more, deeper into him, bobbing gently. Zexion took a sharp breath, so Demyx just moved a little quicker. He loved the way it felt in his mouth, steady and vital, the way he felt it tensing. Zexion leaned harder against the counter. His own dick hardened, throbbing almost painfully, but it was difficult to both figure out Zexion and to rub at himself. He needed to be the one in control here.

Zexion gasped softly, his balance wavering in the slightest. Demyx wrapped his arms around his waist, to lend him his support. If he'd known a blowjob would have done the trick, he'd have done it before now. He worked at it harder, Zexion's small noises only turning him on more. 

Zexion's hips strained against him, trying not to thrust.  _ Just fall apart already _ , he thought.  _ Let me see who you actually are. _

Demyx heard him take a breath. "Demyx," was all he said, so beautifully  _ breathy _ , but it was not so much a cry of his name as a warning.

Demyx  _ felt _ it happen, warmth against his throat, the twitch of Zexion's dick the closest he'd come so far to gagging. Zexion moaned, an almost new sound, but before Demyx could really grasp this victory he was withdrawing gently from Demyx's mouth and tucking it back into his pants. Demyx let go of him and swallowed it down, the (oddly sweet?) Salt of it. Zexion handed him a napkin.

"Thanks," he said, his voice a bit hoarse. He was so turned on it physically hurt. Trying to keep it together was taking all of his willpower.

Zexion dropped to his level. "I'm not a sadist," he said. He was still breathing hard. "Lay down."

"What?" He was a bit dazed still.

"Kneeling is uncomfortable. I'm sure the linoleum would be murder on my knees. Lay down."

Demyx listened. The kitchen floor was cold through his shirt. Zexion unbuttoned his jeans and ripped them off almost roughly. Demyx felt his face flush further. Without hesitation, Zexion took it into his hand; even the feeling of skin was enough to make him squirm. 

"You're one of those people who has to please their partner first, aren't you?"

He couldn't quite see his face, between the bright ceiling light and his hair. "Isn't everyone?"

"You'd be surprised," Zexion deadpanned. He tucked his hair behind his ear. Demyx felt rather than saw him take it. His soft lips against the tip of it made him gasp out loud. Zexion pulled it a little deeper, his tongue running deftly along the sensitive underside. Demyx couldn't remember the last time he'd actually gotten a half-decent blowjob; he couldn't think much at all. The heat of his mouth was almost too much, and he squirmed. As if in response to this, Zexion gave his hand one hard squeeze. It was not a gesture that invited intimacy; more like one telling him to be still.

He tried to listen, but god Zexion was moving so  _ achingly  _ slow, as though punishment for causing that momentary lack of composure. Demyx could hear he was making these pathetic small whimpering noises. After another moment of this--much too long--Zexion started moving in earnest, pulling silkily on those already overstimulated nerves. 

The tension inside him hitched substantially. This was something like torture. It didn't surprise him at all that Zexion was into denial. "Hey," Demyx said. "This kind of hurts."

Zexion's grip on his hand loosened. Almost indulgently, he bobbed a bit harder, letting Demyx get to a place resembling  _ close.  _ It had definitely been revenge. He laughed a little.

"You're such a bastard."

Zexion flicked his tongue across the tip of it and took him deeper. It all threatened to dissolve into color, a riptide he couldn't fight anymore.

"I'm close," he forced, between his teeth, aware that Zexion probably wasn't a swallower. But the other man didn't break away, tightening the top of his throat. It was this that forced him over the edge, sending a spasm through him and dragging a moan out of his mouth. 

Delicately, Zexion sat up, patting the corners of his mouth. His smirk said  _ I win. _ "I thought your noise would very much bother me," he said coolly. "Rather… it is surprisingly…  _ flattering _ to measure your control. Or lack thereof, in this case."

Demyx tucked his hypersensitive dick back into his pants, wincing. It probably wouldn’t feel comfortable for some time. "You always have to come out on top, don't you?"

The smirk just deepened. He stood and brushed himself off. "I thought you knew what you were getting into," he said. He walked towards the other room--he was practically  _ sauntering _ \--and shut the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx's sanity becomes tenuous, but Zexion has an ingenious solution.

Time, and time, and  _ time _ \--

Demyx kept having to reassure himself  _ I am a Nobody, I don't  _ get  _ stir crazy, I don't get anxious.  _ But these walls were pressing up against him. He found himself curled in the bathtub, under the shower water, breathing hard and rocking back and forth, discordant melodies twining inside him.

_ This can't be forever. This can't be forever. I'm okay. _

A knock at the door. "Demyx? It's been a while. Are you alright?"

He probably had to pee. "Sorry, I'm almost done." He tried to force himself to stand, only for another wave of hysteria to break over him. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming out loud. His legs were numb, and the blood rushed back into them painfully. He dried off and dressed. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, his hair loose around his face, and something like a tide of insanity seemed to be rising--

"Demyx?"

He covered his mouth, trying to stifle the noise. The last thing he needed was to show weakness. He forced the door open. A glimmer of something--bemusement? Concern?--flickered in Zexion's eye.

"Are you… faring well?" he asked carefully.

Demyx tried to come up with a witty retort, but to his horror he could feel his eyes prickling. "No."

"Are you ill?"

He shook his head slowly.

Zexion looked into the middle distance. "I understand," he said. "First I must… tend to this, and then--"

"Right. Yeah. I was kind of hogging it. Sorry."

Demyx sank wearily onto his bed. A moment later, Zexion reemerged. "I suppose, psychologically, this captivity is getting to you," he began. "As an extrovert I imagine this is much harder on you."

"You must be living this up."

He scowled. "I may be harsh, but I get no pleasure from the suffering of others. If I'm to be honest… this isn't easy on me either. Nobodies are meant to travel, to wander, neither existing here nor there… and yet we can barely leave these four walls. This state of being… seems infinite."

Demyx nodded.

Zexion went over to his dresser. "Perhaps this can provide some relief."

He almost groaned. "I hate to break it to you, but I don't think I've ever felt  _ less _ horny in my life."

"Nor have I." He was doing something on the top of the dresser. A moment later he came back with a perfectly rolled joint.

Demyx laughed. "You're serious?"

"Do you want it, or not?" He sat next to him and pulled one leg under his body. 

"I just--I don't know. Before all this I figured you were a straightedge virgin."

Zexion snorted. He lit it with a small spell, took a few tokes, passed it. "What makes you say that?"

"You hate people  _ and  _ rulebreaking." The smoke was welcome in his lungs. 

"There are no rules against illicit substances so long as we only use them in our leisure time. I've actually tried a great many things--mostly to see how it affects my magic, true."

Demyx offered it back. "Does it?"

He nodded. "Hallucinogens naturally make it more powerful, but harder to rein. Alcohol impacts my ability to interact with the senses. Marijuana doesn't do much, but it  _ does _ make it easy for me to fool myself. Admittedly I prefer being clear-headed. But we both need to take the edge off things for a moment."

It was the longest Demyx had heard him speak without some kind of malice in his tone. Zexion's voice was almost wistful.

He exhaled smoke. "Anyway, I can't risk having you fall apart, and lose the only decent lay I have."

Demyx barked a laugh. "So I graduated."

"...Bed pardon?" He tapped ash into an empty cup at Demyx's bedside.

He took the joint back. "In the beginning I was only "adequate." Now I'm "decent"?"

He rolled his eyes. "Perhaps I would feel differently, had I other options."

Demyx knew to just take the compliment. The anxious hysteria from earlier was beginning to wane, replaced with the gentle warmth and expansiveness of the weed. “Shit’s fucking strong.”

“...Indeed.” Zexion stubbed out the butt. 

“What, did you just have your Nobodies get some?”

He considered. His expression was still calm, but a bit rawer at the edges. “Lexeaus had grown some strains, for experimentation with our abilities,” he said slowly. “Once those experiments were considered a waste of time… well. We simply didn’t tell the Superior the garden was maintained.” He shrugged.

Demyx’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean there’s been weed in the castle the whole time? God  _ damn _ . Could’ve saved me some effort.”

He laughed a little. “Though if you tell anyone else… I do have a good deal of compromising information on you now, don’t I?”

Demyx rolled his eyes. He was feeling heavy now. He lay back down, contemplating the horrible popcorn ceiling. To his surprise, he felt Zexion lay down next to him. 

“Might I show you something?” he asked.

“Uh--sure.”

He felt Zexion reach over and take his hand. All of a sudden there was no popcorn ceiling, no stifling room; they were lying in a field, at night, bright stars the only source of light. Demyx was shocked at how real the grass felt; he could even feel dirt under his fingertips. The air smelled sweet and clean, unlike the stale ventilated stuff they’d been breathing for months. 

“Was this where you went all those times I saw you?” Demyx asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Before we… you know. I’d walk in and see you staring into space, your eyes black.”

“Not necessarily here,” Zexion said. “Other places. Other times. I’d try to recreate my favorite novels--an exercise, to keep the power limber.”

“Sure,” he said. Demyx knew the cool breeze he felt was fake, but he let himself be high and tricked. “You mean we could’ve been doing this all this time? Just… leaving?”

“I should’ve known better, shouldn’t I?” Zexion asked, with a sigh. 

A beat, a breath. Demyx wondered why he was still holding his hand. Maybe that’s why it felt so vivid? “Why do your eyes turn black?”

“I’ve no idea,” he said. “I tried once to figure out a logical reason. Perhaps as a hint to my… victim, that they’re being enthralled. But I realized it was rather easy to just cover up  _ that _ with an illusion itself.” A gentle laugh. 

“Feel like I barely know you,” he remarked. “How long have I been in this Organization? And we never hang out.”

“Four years, two months, and eleven days.”

“Yikes. Who’s counting?”

“My life became a  _ lot _ more annoying once you entered it.”

“And now?” 

He withdrew his hand and looked up at the stars. “I figure I could’ve been stuck with someone… worse,” he said slowly. “It could’ve been Larxene.”

“...And I doubt you’d have fucked her.”

“Hardly. Lesbians do not typically… change track, even when presented with no other options. But the thought of being with her repulses me.”

Demyx laughed a little. “How did you know I wasn’t straight?”

Zexion looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“Right. That’s fair.” He looked up at the night sky Zexion had created, the bright swirls of galaxies. “So… when this is all over… when we go home… would you want to… keep this up?” 

“By “this” you mean… our sexual relationship?”

“Would be a lot easier than trying to dig up a rando every time you want some.”

Zexion was silent for a long time. “I suppose that seems… practical, doesn’t it?”

“And with randos there’s no guarantee it will be  _ good. _ ”

“I’m  _ good _ for you, then?”

“Oh, you knew that,” Demyx said. “You kind of… make it a game. I like it.”

“Right. Well…” Zexion exhaled. “Perhaps once I’m back from Castle Oblivion… we can revisit such things.”

He couldn’t help the smile. “Okay. So it’s a date.”

* * *

Demyx woke suddenly. It was midmorning, now. He was dizzy--a side effect of the weed--and he’d slept heavily. He propped himself up a little.

To his shock, Zexion was still in his bed--also asleep.  _ He was probably too high to get up, _ Demyx told himself. With a flash, he realized that this was a shade of the loss of control he had so desperately sought in the other man. A blush heated his cheeks. 

Perhaps at his shift in weight on the less-than-ideal mattress, Zexion stirred. “...Goodness,” he said softly. “I seem to have invaded your privacy.”

“It’s okay--I didn’t even notice until I got up.”

Zexion sat up, holding a hand to his brow. “I do detest the vertigo… but I feel better for it, don’t you think?”

Demyx nodded. “Rude of you to hold out for so long,” he said.

“The Nobodies are technically only supposed to carry essential supplies to us,” Zexion said. “It took a bit of convincing for one of them to get it.” He sat up, trying to flatten his hair. “You know…” He trailed off.

The hesitation sent a wave of anxiety through him. “What?”

“If you so chose… I could put you to sleep until this all blows over. You needn’t suffer.”

“But then you’d be alone.”

Zexion shrugged. “I’ve been alone a long time, Demyx. I can handle it.”

“You just trying to get rid of me?”

His expression was unreadable. “...You’re not that lucky.”

“Couldn’t you sleep too?”

Zexion shook his head. “I can’t be in contact with the Nobodies or Vexen if I’m unconscious.”

Demyx didn’t know what to say.

“Think about it,” he said. “Clearly this is not going to end any time soon.”

“Could we do it in shifts?”

“Potentially,” he said, with a shrug. “Though do you even know how to do third-level Sleep?”

Demyx bit his lip. 

“Besides, I think I could do without your noise,” he said. “I do  _ so _ have a lot to catch up on.” 

The bed wasn’t that large; they were still fairly close to one another. Demyx was struck with the strangest urge to touch Zexion’s face. “I’ll think about it,” he said. 

He nodded once. “Quite. Well…”

Demyx took a breath, swallowing the nerves. He leaned in and kissed Zexion, once. Demyx felt him relax a little, parting his lips. So he did want this. He kept kissing him, but something about this was different; it had lost the almost violence of their previous encounters. It was… soft? He could still feel the want, coiling smoothly inside of him. He grasped at Zexion’s hair and felt him begin to kiss back harder.

He almost thought he could deal with the endlessness of this quarantine, if he could just kiss Zexion.

Zexion exhaled heavily. He straddled Demyx, pinning him against the mattress, his thin hands surprisingly strong. Already he was starting to harden--Demyx could feel it--and his own body responded in turn. Zexion grabbed the hem of Demyx’s shirt and pulled it over his head. Demyx reached down and began to knead at Zexion’s dick through the fabric, garnering a small gasp. They kept undressing. Demyx tried to figure out what felt  _ different _ about this time, because it was. Maybe the faint remnants of weed still in his system? Or the agreement that this might just keep going, so he no longer had to rush to learn Zexion, to learn how to make him fall apart?  _ What was it? _

Zexion broke away from Demyx’s throat, which he had been kissing. “In all this I’ve somehow yet to take you,” he said, in a low voice. 

He felt his cock throb once. “No, you haven’t,” he said.

“For thoroughness’s sake… I may as well, yes?”

“Yeah, no. Totally.” He tried to quiet the trembling in his hands.

Another sinuous smile. “Quite. Lie on your stomach, won’t you?”

He did so without questioning. Zexion ran a cool hand along the curve of his ass, making him shudder. Demyx heard him reach for the lube. It felt odd, to not be able to see him, to only see the wall to the side of his face. The horrible print in a gilt frame. Zexion kissed the nape of his neck, his shoulder, his spine. His dick pressed against Demyx’s thigh, warm and hard. Demyx felt a finger slide into him and couldn’t help the small noise he made. Zexion’s touch was light, curious. He added another finger, moving them slowly, a push and pull that  _ almost _ reached that part of him, making him squirm.

“So impatient,” Zexion said. The third finger nearly hurt, but the pain was weirdly welcome. He leaned down to keep kissing his shoulder, running his tongue along the skin, and then almost without warning Demyx felt a small pinch, felt… teeth?

“Are you--?”

“Do you mind it?”

“No, I’ve just never--”

“Tell me if it’s too hard for you.” Zexion did it again, biting the soft skin of his throat, a prickle of pain which was not quite pain, which in fact somehow only made his dick throb a little  _ more _ , to the point where he was kind of grinding against the mattress.

Well. Demyx hadn’t known  _ that _ about himself.

Zexion kept at it, moving his hand almost in time with these bites, running his tongue gently over them. 

“Please,” he said. He wasn’t aware of the word until it was already out of him, making him burn with embarrassment. Begging instantly meant Zexion won. 

“Please?” His voice was almost a purr.

“Do something--I--”

He pressed a kiss against Demyx’s cheek. “Is this a bit frustrating for you?”

“You think?”

More kisses, against the places he’d bitten. A gentle Zexion was worse than a demanding one, Demyx decided. “Alright. Well. If you  _ must. _ ” Zexion eased his weight off of him for a moment, withdrew his hand; Demyx saw the lube set down next to him.

He could feel the tip of it, warm, against him and shuddered, having to consciously suppress the moan. Stupid of him to even think he’d have  _ any  _ control if Zexion fucked him.

Fucked?

Demyx felt him push into him a bit. He clutched the sheet. This wasn’t really fucking anymore, was it? What  _ was _ it?

“You really are ready for this,” Zexion remarked, slipping into him easily. “What should I  _ do _ to you?”

He was loving the power, Demyx thought. “Whatever you want.”

“It’s no fun if you’re  _ completely _ submissive,” he said, in that same low voice. He began to thrust into him--gently?--and even though he hadn’t yet found the prostate just the feeling of him made him gasp. 

“More kind of… towards the…” He forced out. 

Zexion somehow made sense of this, shifting his weight to buck down a little deeper. Demyx felt the tip of it against that spot and had to bury his face in the pillow, a shudder running down him. Zexion thrusted harder, his smooth chest brushing against Demyx’s back. Demyx heard one of his small not-quite-noises, and tried to clench a little, but this thrust hit him in a way that made it kind of difficult to move. One of Zexion’s hands crept under the tangle of their bodies, first giving him some much needed support before slipping down to grasp at his dick.

This was  _ not _ fair.

“Not so easy now, is it?” Zexion whispered, again kissing the soft skin of his throat. 

He honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this; his body didn’t really seem to know what to do with the onslaught of sensation, all of it so gentle which made it weirdly  _ worse _ . He no longer had control over the noises he was making, focusing solely on the feel of Zexion’s dick and his hand and again the biting--

Zexion quickened a little. He was breathing hard too, warm breaths Demyx could feel against his own overheated skin. Feeling it pull almost all the way out. He fumbled against the mattress for a hand, for something to hold onto--Zexion reached for him too, his hand leaving Demyx’s dick, both of them focused solely on that steady movement, so like tides. Demyx felt Zexion’s cock tensing, an odd little shiver. All he could do was press against him harder, but he heard--almost unbelievably--that moan. Even when Zexion held all the cards, Demyx could  _ still _ make him break composure.

This wasn’t fucking.

The closer they both got, he noticed that Zexion was kind of clinging to him, kissing all the while. The only skin of his Demyx could really kiss was his hand, so he did, which garnered another small moan, this one somewhat confused. A quiver went through Zexion's dick, which Demyx felt  _ so _ sweetly. Things were starting to go gray at the edges. He kissed the inside of Zexion’s wrist, so soft, feeling his heartless pulse, running his tongue along the veins he could see through that too-pale skin.

A gasp, of shock, then another noise, louder this time. Demyx  _ felt _ it happen within him, small tremors as Zexion came.

He’d won.  _ Ha _ , he thought dazedly, before his own control shattered.

It washed through him, hot and cold and steady, more than one wave, leaving him feeling stripped bare and yet also… also.

_ Vulnerable. _

Not fucking. The opposite. The second he was recovered enough to move he gave Zexion’s hand a small squeeze; he was still lying rather heavily on Demyx, breathing hard. At this, he pulled out and lay down next to him on the bed. It was really the first time Demyx saw that mask fall away entirely--below it was confusion and a sort of fear. Demyx almost thought he was seeing a completely different face. Zexion tried to mouth some words, but came up empty. Demyx instead kissed him once, gently, on the lips.

“You okay?” Demyx asked him.

Zexion shook his head, not in response, but to calibrate himself. “I… believe so,” he said. “Somehow you overwhelmed me. I’d figured--”

“I’d be a quivering wreck?”

“And you almost were.” He scowled. “Almost.”

Demyx smiled. “No. I’ve never heard  _ that _ noise from you.”

Another flush brightened his face. “Quite. Well.” He pulled his legs over the side of the bed. “Something to work on, going forward, then.”

“Chill for a minute?”

Zexion hesitated.

“I think your  _ uber _ important work can wait.”

He sighed and lay back down. “This is only because I’m exhausted,” he said. 

Demyx rested his face against his shoulder. “Of course.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, one of Zexion's Nobodies dropped a package at their feet.

"Another one of Vexen's crack vaccines?" Demyx asked.

Zexion popped open the case. There were two small vials, and a note.  _ If this doesn't do it nothing will. --IV  _

Demyx rolled his eyes. He knew better than to get his hopes up, but he let Zexion stick him anyway. But within minutes, he felt a sort of ache, a sort of  _ blooming _ almost. 

A flicker of joy spread across Zexion's face. Without hesitation, he held out his hand, and there it was; a portal.

"We're free," Demyx said. "Huh."

He hesitated. "We may as well pack up."

"Sure. Yeah. That."

They did, in almost perfect silence. It felt almost weird, to put that black coat on again. This settled… their books and bags gone via the Nobodies, leaving the room vacant… they faced one another. "I suppose our lives must go on," Zexion said. "I cannot  _ wait _ to get back to the library."

"I know I need to go to the fucking beach. And maybe scream a while."

A beat, longer than the last.

"So… after Castle Oblivion?" Demyx asked.

Zexion nodded once. Demyx thought he was almost smiling. "I'll hold you to it."

Demyx leaned in to kiss him one last time, trying to memorize its taste, how it felt. "See you around, I guess." Creating the portal felt like relief; they were finally getting out of this awful place. And yet… "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Zexion furrowed his eyebrows. "Of course. I'm always careful."

Demyx still watched him go first, wondering at the sensation of vulnerability, the  _ feeling.  _ Wondering if this might be the key all along.

And then he left.


End file.
